Mallu Barber & The Mushroom Cut…!!

Mallu Barber & The Mushroom Cut…!!
by
Jean Kachappilly

-8th Standard – Mischief is flaring up. I don’t really miss any chance to get naughty, mess things up and finally land in trouble. But the most interesting part of it is I know how to get out of the ridiculous knots that I myself make.
I hate Abhi Wilson Kuruvila at school primarily for two reasons.

1. He is the class prefect.. damn it. That’s a place I have been eying for quite a while. But that rascal wont let me there since he is there always.
2.He is this nice prissy way of getting around girls and winning their attention. Be it in studies or be it on stage. Goddamn it!! I keep pulling my hair. I hate him. Really.

Now, you might call this envy, jealousy or whatever that you feel like but you know I just cant stand this guy getting noticed over and again. But when I walk past him, I have the sweetest grin on my face. “How abt a truck running over you , Abhi?” That’s what is there in my mind . Jesus Christ, they don give me the “Best Actor” even with this kind of acting performance.
To add to my frustration, that guy back from his vacation has this funky “Mushroom Cut” and the moron looks stunning. I can hear girls taking about him. Oh My God…. Why are you teasing me? Why are you testing my patience? I plead to almighty. But in vain.

Now this time I wont let him take away all the praise and gaze. Even I have hair. Even I can go in for a funky hair cut. All the gaze will be on me. I laugh out loud .. dreaming….!! “Bobby…Whats going on there ?” Sussy Miss asks me in fury.I had even forgotten that I was inside the class when I was laughing. Damn it. All are laughing at me. I sit there… Pig Faced.

So I set out on my expedition on a hot Sunday afternoon to have the funkiest hair cut of my life and to drive my revenge on that rascal Abhi. My bike is a “Hero Impact”. My own cycle. The only thing I can take pride off. We have travelled together to secretive places. Places where no one would find us out. I just love riding on him. Especially on Sunday afternoons. He really is my partner in crime. So here we go in search of a barber shop.

After cycling for about half an hour, I spot one in a kind of quiet tri junction where this barber shop is one among the two shops there and the other being a grocery shop. I park my bike near the shop and walks in as if I am going into a Casino saloon. The shop is dimly lit. A mirror, of which right bottom corner is cracked is kept on the table. A water spraying device. A razor with a broken handle. A shaving brush. A white marble stone. Two silver-turned-black scissors, a comb of which half the tooth are not to be seen. A heap of hair in one corner of the room. A typical Kerala-style barber shop. Well … for a second, I don’t spot the most important thing that is expected out of a barber shop. The barber himself. Then … a frail, old, jet-black man arises from a corner .

He is about 70. He wears a pair of thick glasses Himself doesn’t have any hair. It was funny to think that he can save for him coz he needn’t have any haircut for himself. Jesus Christ. This guy is so weak in appearance that he might fall down any moment and I might find myself rushing to hold him back.

I look at him with a tint of suspicion. So.. here is my stylist …. !! Will this man do the job for me and set the fire on that schmuck’s As*. Well.. he seems a bit experienced .. he can do it .. I take the seat.

“Mushroom Cut”. I announce with lot of air in my voice. The frail little barber nods and spreads the clothing on my chest.Shh shhhzz shhhzz…. He sprinkles water all over my hair.The rattling of the scissors gets underway. And I am extra cautious to find out how these barber folks makes those step in a Mushroom cut. A few minutes has passed. No sign of any mushroom budding on my hair.

Holy Christ …. I am up in amazement. Does this guy really know what a mushroom cut is ? Man …. Forget about mushroom cut …. Does this guy know how a mushroom will look like ? I am a bit apprehended.
I ask in concern… “ I want that step to be seen vividly… ok. Wont it be that way” The man nods again. Doesn he speak? A few more minutes pass by … No step or no mushroom what so ever.

“Cum’on .. I asked for a mushroom cut .. now the back of my head is almost flat… hardly any hair left to have a step in my hair…. Do you really know a mushroom cut?” I ask him a little irritated. By that time my hopes are shattered. This little crooked barber was making me a potential victim of his once-in –a-year-visited barber shop. Loser. I swear to myself.

“Do one thing. Go in for an Army cut now. What has happened has happened. Now don’t make it worse. Finish it off in such a fashion that it is presentable” I screamed. I am not angry. Just lost hopes. The man continues the rattling battle with his scissors on my hair. Half an hour passed. I sit there in front of the mirror gazing at myself. I wanted to cry. But I ll do that after giving what I am supposed to give this little drumstick barber. Look at me. I am no better than some negro from Mozambique. Little sparse hair on my head here and there. The old crook has done this to me. How do I go to my class with such a hairstyle. I am almost dead when I think of Abhi. I look at the old man with kind of pity in my eyes …..then he utters his first words…. “ It looks nice for you ..” And he is damn serious about it.
I don’t know how to react. I cant think of anything better. Clean shave. That for sure …. Will look better than what I have now. He was extra perfect with that. Wow ….!! What an accuracy…. You crook!! I thought. Before getting out … I thanked him for such marvelous hair style.

“And yeah … you ought to get some rest … Its was indeed a tough job” I tell him an empty the place quickly.

Back home, Mom, dad and sis cant stop laughing when I told the saga of my haircut and the one hour ordeal with the crooked barber.
That night, I cant catch sleep. I m rolling on my bed. Coz tomorrow is Monday and I am going to present my egg-shell head to the class. I can hear all the “shame shame puppy shames” rattling in my head.

I tell to myself.. “Cant this be the beginning of a new trend? Why not ….. I ll be the trend setter for tomorrow and there will be at least a few fools to follow me … y worry….!!

Abhi …. So**f *bi***.. here I come …… ”

Epilogue

*Monday – What you have thought would happen has happened . Laughter and More laughter around me. That’s a blessed day and that’s the day when I learned to laugh at myself.

*Abhi and I are best pals now. After school he went on to do MS at IIT Kanpur and now he is in US working with a semiconductor devices firm . We met during the last get together at school & we had a huge laugh over this.

*When I visited Trivandrum last time , that old barber shop building is replaced by a multi cuisine restaurant as is my hero impact cycle replaced by my Thunderbird 350. I cant help smiling as I stop in front of that restaurant as those beautiful memories of lush green childhood brush past my mind. What could have happened to that little barber?. He might have left the place …or he might have been dead …. What ever … God rest his soul….. !!!

*I park my Thunderbird and walked in to the restaurant just to have a cup of coffee.